Tuesday, May 19, 2009

stinkin' Yankees

Apparently one of the advantages of having preserved the Union is that Northern garbage finds its home in the South. Literally. Garbage. On stinkin' long trains (and I only had to smell it going by on a 40-degree morning), mostly hauling from NYC to various landfills in Virginia. Jeff Davis must be retching in his grave.

I'm sorry. I really am. For being from the inconsiderate North. For eating fast food that comes with more packaging than calories. Tie me to a track in a vain attempt to stop the madness. Or more plausibly, try to get through a day without generating more garbage. (One day isn't so hard--start there, and do the same thing again tomorrow.) Give a rebel yell for the poor and defeated who have more open land than money or dignity. Shed a tear with the old Indian by the road. Repent in dust and ashes before the God who made us stewards of his creation. Or at least go stand on a train platform in August and breathe deep the stench of your own death.

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